


Dog Tags

by buckysknifecollection



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 16:30:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20603852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckysknifecollection/pseuds/buckysknifecollection
Summary: You are a kept prisoner by Hydra, your role is to fix Soldat’s metal arm whenever it gets damaged in a mission. You grow fond of each other and you decide to save him.





	Dog Tags

**Author's Note:**

> {{This piece was reposted from my Tumblr blog buckysknifecollection.tumblr.com}}
> 
> I love this piece with my entire heart. This is my favourite fic I’ve written so far and I’m sooo proud of it. 
> 
> (the paragraphs in italics are flashbacks!)
> 
> *Translation: Maleńka - little one in Polish

It’s quiet and cold inside the concrete walls of your cell, there’s water dripping down one of them. Over time you’ve done everything you could to keep it away from the ragged mattress you slept on and the small pile of clothes you were given the night you were thrown inside that very cell.

The dripping has been constant for so long, the sound of is permanently somewhere at the back of your brain, even if your not in there. No matter what you did, it was useless, everything inside that disgusting cell was damp and cold.

It’s dark too, you can’t remember the last time sunlight has touched your skin. The tiny window under the ceiling was covered in a thick layer of dust, and too high for you to reach up and wipe it clean.

If your calculations were correct, it’s been almost ten years now.

Every day, you are woken up by the rattle of the thick metal door and a tray of disgusting, tasteless food being tossed inside through the little slot at the bottom the door. Half of the contents usually end up on the floor, be it from them slipping off the tray or your stomach rejecting them.

You barely feel human anymore, you’re just another tool. Only alive as long as you’re useful.

The only pieces of humanity left in you are your memories from before.

It’s pitch black in your cell when the door screeches violently, then slams against the wall. You’re ripped out of your bed before you manage to fully open your eyes. You don’t make a sound, don’t struggle. It’s no use, anyway.

They drag you to the labs, people in white lab coats are frantically running around you, keeping their eyes fixed on the ground. Multiple soldiers are barking out orders, the noise surrounding you is numbing, you barely take notice of your surroundings.

The soldier that was dragging you pushes you to the ground and you land on your knees with a thud. The first thing you notice are the mudded, heavy-looking leather boots. In the ever so pristine labs, they look out of place.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen this man. You look up slowly and take him in. He’s breathing heavily through the nose, his jaw clenched tightly, his chest heaving. His black vest is ripped in a few places, multiple stab wounds are visible through the holes in the fabric, blood is oozing out of them with alarming speed. His face is covered in sweat, there’s old, brown blood and dirt on his cheeks and forehead. His hair is drenched, either from sweat or water, and sticking to this skin. His eyes are shut and his head hangs low. His right hand is clenched so hard his knuckles are white, there’s blood on that hand too. His left, metal arm is propped stiffly on the the low table next to him. Some of the metal plates are dented and bent at the wrong angles, one plate has been torn off and there are sparks coming from the inside.

“Fix it!” The handler barks at you and kicks you towards the man.

_Soldat_. That’s the only name you know him by, and it’s not even a name. It simply means soldier in Russian, as you’ve been told.

_“What’s your name?” you asked the first time you were brought to him. He didn’t answer, didn’t even move, only kept staring straight ahead. _

_“Do you remember?” you tried again, but still no answer came. Just as you were about to turn back to your task, he shook his head slightly in a silent “no.” _

You swallow the lump in your throat and slowly stand up. Sudden movements are never a good idea. Not in front of the Hydra soldiers and definitely not in front of Soldat. You move to the stool next to him and check the tools the scientists have spread out on the table - your usual set.

You’ve been their technician for so many years, you have your own set of tools, which was prepared for you when you were brought in, and once you were done, someone would collect and clean it all while you were dragged back to your cell. Until next time.

You take a deep breath and give the arm a good look, figure out what needs to be done first to stop the sparks from flying out of it. Without a word, you grab the long forceps closest to you to hold the wires away as you screw back in place the part of the motherboard that was hanging loose. Once you do that, you can move on to the other multiple failures you’ve already spotted.

But the moment you start working with a larger screwdriver, a low hiss comes from Soldat and you can hear his fist clenching, the metal groaning at the force. Your movements freeze and you look at his face. He’s turned towards you, his blue eyes are fixed on your hands and the pain is making his brows furrow.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper to him, low enough that hopefully no one else heard you. You’ve seen this man suffer so much, that having to cause him even the slightest of discomforts breaks your heart.

You don’t have time to look away from him before a gun barrel is pushed against your temple, hard enough to leave a bruise for later.

“Fix it now!” The handler growls at you again.

You choke back a whimper of fear, and get to work. You don’t speak to Soldat any more. Not when he gasps a few times more, when you put the wires back in their places. Not when one of the doctors stitches up the big gash on his abdomen and he whimpers in pain. They never use any anesthetics. Not on him, at least.

You spare him one last glance when you are finished and already being dragged off your stool by the nape of your neck. His head is hung low again and he’s breathing slowly, his flesh fist is still clenched hard, and you notice drops of fresh blood dripping off it.

_ _ _ _

You don’t see him for a long time after that and figure he must have been put on ice again. They never kept him out for longer than a couple of weeks and the longer he was out, the more frequent the wipings were. They often started the process while you were still inside the lab and his screams chilled the blood in your veins. They made you unable to sleep, and when you did, all you saw was that poor man again, bloodied and terrified but still somehow cold and detached.

And it only got worse over time, since he seemed to recognise you no matter how many times his mind was wiped and reprogrammed. Sometimes it took him a few days, sometimes only a few minutes and sometimes, he already had his eyes fixed on the door you would be dragged through, waiting.

_The soldier pushed you towards your seat, your tools and Soldat already waiting for you. His arm was twisted at an unnatural angle, indicating that training session with the other soldiers must’ve been particularly brutal that day. _

_The man himself sat unmoving the chair, his head propped against the headrest. He seemed dazed, as if not really aware of his surroundings or himself. He was always like this after his mind was wiped. You could still see the burn marks on his temples, and his screams of pain still echoed in your mind from barely half an hour earlier. _

_You didn’t try to communicate with him when he was in that fragile state, as he was always walking a fine line between breaking down and lashing out. And even though he was probably the only person in that place that has never raised a hand against you, you preferred not to risk it. _

_You began welding the cracked plates on his forearm when you heard his head shuffle against the worn leather as he turned towards you. _

_“Maleńka*…” He whispered the pet name he had picked for you the last time you saw each other. _

_You gasped in surprise. He had just been wiped but still recognised you? _

_You were so shocked, you didn’t even think of checking if you are being listened to and with a small smile you answered. “Hello, Soldat." _

_It looked like he was going to say something more but before he could, his handler punched him in the stomach growling in a language you didn’t know. He then turned to the scientists and yelled at them while pointing a gun at Soldat. _

_"He still recognises people! Do you not know how to do your jobs? Do I need to keep you at gunpoint so you do it properly? Wipe him again!" _

He usually didn’t speak a word to you, he only answered to the higher officers, his handler or the important looking men in suits that sometimes came to the lab. You didn’t try to start any conversations with him, you’d even stopped apologising for hurting him after his handler had put a knife against your throat. You knew he knew you were sorry, you could see it in his sad eyes.

The first time he had ever spoken to you was when you were working on reattaching a couple of his fingers, which got ripped off during training with the other enhanced soldiers. You were glad none of them needed your expertise - they terrified you even more than the handlers.

_"Can you feel this?” You asked, lightly pulling on the reattached finger. His arm was full of artificial nerves and he definitely had some feeling in his metal arm, even if it was slightly duller than in his flesh one. _

_“Yes.” His voice was only a whisper, but it was the first time you had heard him be so calm. He didn’t seem to be in any pain for once and he wasn’t scared of you. “Thank you.”_

_ If you weren’t sitting so close to him, you probably wouldn’t have heard him. You looked up in surprise. He was relaxed, sitting limply in the chair, his fists weren’t clenched for once, neither was his jaw, and his eyes? They looked so warm despite their icy shade, so human. You stared in awe, only just realising how beautiful he was when he was just… himself. Not a killer, not a test subject. _

_His handler didn’t like it. You were not allowed to interact in any way. He stormed forward from his spot in the corner, screaming, cocking the gun already. Following your instincts, you jumped off your stool, already seeking any sort of safety under the table, and prayed he wouldn’t kill Soldat. _

_The moment the man was close enough, in a powerful and shockingly fast movement, Soldat kicked him. The man’s body flew across the room, hit the wall with a sickening crunch of bones and slid to the floor. Some broken pieces of brick fell on top of it, and a pool of blood started to form under the now dead handler’s head. _

_Soldat was silent and his breathing sounded regular in the completely silent lab. You stiffly crawled out from under the table, eyes fixed on the limp corpse by the door. A sob escaped you, as the adrenaline and fear left your body. He had protected you. _

_He was already looking at you, studying you, when you turned to him. “It’s okay.” He murmured, reaching for you with his right hand. You grabbed it, felt the calluses formed by weapons, and yet, it was the best feeling you could’ve imagined. _

_“Thank you.” You squeezed his palm, your hands shaking as you realised what will happen to him once someone walks in. “Shouldn’t have done that. They will hurt you now.” _

_“It’s okay.” He only repeated. _

_ _ _ _

The next time you see him, he’s in the worst shape you have ever seen. Physically, he seems fine, you don’t see any blood. His arm is severely damaged, but that’s not the worst part.

The worst part is the lifeless look in his eyes. The moment you see him, you only want to cry.

A scientist places your case of tools on the table next to Soldat and opens it. She drags a stool from the corner of the room and sets it at the table. “Fix it.” She grumbles and you immediately walk over.

When you sit down and steal another glance at Soldat and you wish you hadn’t. He looks empty, a shell of the shell of a man you’ve come to know. It’s never been this bad before.

You get to work before anyone decides to rush you, you’ve learned your lesson by now. You take off a few plates off his arm to assess the damage. You move a few wires aside and see that a few of them have been burned through, some parts have been smashed, there are multiple deep dents close to his shoulder.

You can’t do this, not like you’ve always had. You clear your throat and hope that the next sentence you say won’t be your last.

“The damage is too big. I will need to rebuild some of the parts.”

“Get to it then!” The woman hisses behind you.

“I need to see the original designs so I don’t make a mistake.”

When the silence drags on, you are sure you’re about to get shot in the head and be replaced by someone who will do it. But the scientist leaves the room, leaving you alone with Soldat and his handler, who’s sat unbothered in the corner.

The way you’re seating, you block his view of Soldat’s arm and you take your chance to hold his metal hand gently. He takes a deep breath and his shoulders relax slightly, but he gives no other reaction. You’re not sure if he recognises you but least he knows you’re a friend. You take your hand back when you hear the door behind you open again.

“Follow me.” The woman orders and you immediately get up and walk after her out into the hall.

She guides you down the corridor, takes a few turns and stops to unlock a door marked as Archive 3. She pushes the door open and pulls you inside by the arm. She points to the small desk off to the side and you sit at it immediately, understanding the silent order and watch her as she moves between the shelves, pulls out a few boxes and dumps them in front of you.

“You have until tomorrow. Get to work.” She says and walks out, closing the door and locking it behind her.

You take a deep breath and let your shoulders and spine relax. The air in the room is dusty and smells weird, but it’s the first time in years that you are alone in a place that is dry and has some daylight in it. It feels almost foreign and your hands shake slightly when you open the first box.

One thing you have to admit is that Hydra is very thorough with their documentation. The process of planning and building Soldat’s metal arm is described in extreme detail. When you get to the part about the modifications that had to been done to his body to accommodate such a weapon and then the process of installing it, you retch in the small trash can under the desk. It takes you ages to calm your breath and stop crying, when you realise in shocking detail just what horrors the one person you’ve grown to care so much about has been put through.

And you know it’s stupid, reckless and very, very dangerous, but this is a unique chance for you to gather as much information as possible about Hydra, the facility you’re in and Soldat himself. You get up and walk to the shelves packed with boxes - surely there is some useful stuff in there, something you can use for the plan you’ve been dreaming of ever since you got there. You can see through the small window that it’s only just getting dark outside, which means you’ve still got time. The lamp in the room is weak and it’s hard to read the labels on the boxes, especially when some of them are in languages you don’t know. But you must know, you need to know as much as possible.

Some hours later you spot a small box in the corner of the room with one word on it and it catches your attention. _Barnes_.

You know that name, you’ve seen it before, many times. In history books at school, and that one time your mother took you to an exhibition at the Smithsonian. But why would Hydra have a file on Sergeant Barnes, of all people? You pull it out of the shelf, dust swirling around you, making you sneeze and you run back to the desk, eager to see what’s inside the box. You open it and the first thing you see is a silver chain with dog tags on it - JAMES B BARNES and a line of numbers is punched into the small metal plates. You turn them at different angle in the dim desk lamp, as if that would uncover the mystery.

You set them aside and open the first folder. A large black and white picture is the first thing you see and you recognise him immediately - it’s Soldat. His eyes are closed and there’s some frost covering his lashes and hair. The picture must’ve been taken while he was in the cryo chamber. In the corner of the page, there’s another, smaller picture. That one you recognise immediately as well, as you’ve seen in countless times in books before - Sergeant Barnes back in the 40s.

You can practically hear a click inside your brain when the puzzle pieces fall in place. With tears in your eyes, you look through the rest of the documents, barely making out what the pages say. Soldat? He’s Sergeant Barnes? How was that even possible? He died in the War. How could Soldat be the same person as the baby-faced man you fawned over with your friends in middle school, when the lessons got boring?

Then again, Soldat has barely changed in all the years you’ve known him. Only then do you realise that the Asset as he was called in the old scientific documents, has been Barnes all along. You thought it was something they called the multiple test subjects over the years, but there was only one test subject, this entire time it was only him.

You sit back and let the information sink in. For about seventy years, he’s been a prisoner to this hellish organisation. He was experimented on, tortured, frozen and his mind was tempered with countless times.

You quickly shove everything back into the box, wiping the tears off your face. You grab the dog tags and are about to throw them in the box as well, but something tells you you shouldn’t. That chain was the only thing left of his past, and giving it back to Hydra just felt wrong. You put them around your neck and hide them under your shirt, close the box and put it back in its place.

_ _ _ _

A little after dawn, the scientist comes back. She finds you sitting at the desk, rereading the notes you have made overnight.

“Move.” She barks out, her mood even worse than the day before. You keep your face down, hoping she won’t notice how red and puffy your eyes are from crying for hours.

When you enter the lab, Soldat is in his chair again. You wonder if they had even moved him from there while you were gone. He seems anxious, his hands are trembling slightly were they lay in his lap and he’s looking at the floor, biting the inside of his cheek.

You walk up to your spot, put your notes next to your tools, untouched since the day before. You keep your eyes on his face and gently reach out for his wrist. He jerks away slightly when you touch him, but lets you get a hold of his arm and move it slowly. When his eyes lock with yours, you choke back a sob - he looks petrified. You think he might try to push you away, but after a moment of observing you, he takes a deep breath and you know he recognises you.

You place his arm on the side table an move your stool closer to him. Usually, you’d sit further away, to keep some distance between the two of you, so as not to raise any suspicion, but you decide to start working on the damage closer to his shoulder first. You settle in place, scooting so close, the outsides of your thighs are touching. It’s the only comfort you can possibly offer him while you are being watched by his handler.

Only minutes later, one of the doctors walks in and the handler immediately stands up. You recognise her as the one who sometimes does check-ups on Soldat and also the one on whom the handler seems to have a massive crush on. He chats her up once she’s inside and you’re glad to see that for once she’s responding well to him. It gives you a chance.

You angle your face more towards Soldat, so only he can see your lips moving and speak as quietly as you can. One of the documents mentioned heightened senses and you hope his hearing is as good as they described it.

“I found your file, I know who you are.” You get straight to the point, as there’s no time to waste. There’s only so many bad pick up lines the doctor will have patience for.

“Your name is James. I want to help you, but I don’t have a plan yet. Please, stay strong.” You whisper in a rush as you hear footsteps coming towards you. He doesn’t react in any way, apart from the tiniest of nods, which you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t fully focused on him.

_ _ _ _

While you were fixing up Soldat a few weeks earlier, you overheard two officers chatting about Captain America. And of course you knew who he was. The guy was a legend, after all, you’ve grown up reading comics about him and watching old restored movies in which he starred.

And if James Barnes, the legend’s best friend and right hand was still alive, why couldn’t Steve Rogers be still out there? And somehow you doubt Hydra agents spent their free time reading comics about him.

For years, you had dreamt of escaping that horrid place, tried to pay attention to the layout of the facility and the guards’ schedules. It was already a lot of clues but that one trip to the archive unlocked something new for you. You found a map of the facility and you hoped it was still accurate, seeing as it was drawn back in the 60s.

For the next few weeks you paid even more attention to every detail. Someone had dropped a wrist watch in the shower room and you hid it in your clothes. Concealed as calculations you needed for your work on Soldat’s arm, you kept note of everything that could be useful. When did the guards change, when did they leave on break, when they woke you up, when they put you back in your cell at night. You lied your way back to the archive room a few more times and looked through all the boxes, collecting all the information you possibly could.

You were as prepared as you could possibly be, but you were sure you’ll still fail if you try anything now. Not all, but some doors have keypads on them, and the codes must be kept in a different archive room than the one you had access to. The door to your cell has a keypad, as well as the lab door and the doors at both ends of the corridor. Without codes, you won’t get anywhere.

But it seems like, just this one time, luck is on your side. A massive storm is roaring outside and through the slot at the bottom of your cell door, you can see the lights in the corridor flickering every few seconds. The wiring in the facility seems ancient and you prayed to every deity out there that they didn’t bother with an extra generator in case of emergencies. Hydra was ran by a bunch of evil masterminds, but you’ve seen your fair share of idiocy from them as well.

You sit on your mattress for hours, listening to the thunder outside and watching the flickers of light. You glance at your watch every few minutes, making sure the schedule was still kept as normal. You’re anxiously fiddling with the chain around your neck, when suddenly, the lights in the corridor go off. You quickly make your way to your door and pull on the handle, chanting please please please under your breath.

And you must be the luckiest person on Earth, because the door slides open. Tears pool in your eyes and can’t believe it’s really happening, you put your palm over your mouth to stifle to excited cry that’s threatening to expose you.

But it’s not time yet. You can hear the guards a few paces away, complaining about how dark it is and how they will freeze if the heating doesn’t go back on soon.

Ten minutes later, exactly at midnight, they start walking towards your cell. You hold the door open the tiniest bit, so they don’t notice it’s open but enough so you won’t get locked in if the electricity goes back on.

They walk by and you know you have about ten minutes to get out of there. You have the facility map memorised and are sure you can make it outside in less than the ten minutes you have. If you’re not killed, that is.

You hide the dog tags under your shirt so they don’t make a sound and slip out in the corridor. It’s dark, but not pitch black and you can sort of make out the shapes around you. You quickly move to the end of it and try the door, it opens with a soft click and you wait to listen. As you can’t make out any signs of anyone being there, you move forward and through two more sets of doors until you reach one with a green sign over it that reads EXIT. You almost want to laugh at how stupid the sight is. You take a deep breath, pull the handle and tense at the loud creak the door makes. You pull it open just enough so you can slip outside and you run.

You run as fast as you can and fight the urge to scream in victory. It’s pitch black outside, somehow even darker than it was inside, apart from the occasional lightning in the distance. You can’t see them, but the sound of guards somewhere around the corner makes you panic, you don’t notice the fence in front of you, and slam straight into it. It makes a loud rattling noise and you know your time is running out, when you hear the shouting getting closer.

You’ve gotten so far, you refuse to give up now. You brace yourself and start climbing the fence like you used to when you were a kid and playing extreme tag with your friends. There were some stray, sharp pieces of wire sticking out on the top, which worries you, because there’s no way you can avoid them all. What’s the worst that can happen? You’ll get injured and either the dogs will sniff you out before you get far enough, or you’ll get an infection and die. At least you’d die free, but… what would happen to Soldat?

You climb higher and try to get a good hold of the fence so you can swing your leg over it. You groan in pain when your arm catches on a piece of wire and you realise there will be a lot of more noise involved in your escape than you initially expected. With your other hand, you bunch up your shirt, shove the fabric in your mouth and bite down hard. You brace yourself and swinging your leg over, your whine muted this time, when your thigh slams into the sharp edges. You can hear the guards getting closer, the lights of flashlights are flickering in the distance.

You take another breath and swing your other leg over, slipping a bit and accidentally running your stomach over the wires. It makes you breathless, you lose hold of the fence and fall back. You slam down on the ground and for a few seconds you feel completely disoriented. You come to your senses just as the guards near the door you have escaped through.

You scramble to your feet and try to move away from the fence as fast as you can. The familiar sound of dead leaves under your feet sounds incredible and you wish you could enjoy it more but you really should run.

Your arms, chest and legs hurt like hell, the injuries more painful with each step you take. You can feel the fabric of your pants swishing around you, and you are sure you look like something straight from a horror movie - covered in your own blood, clothes ripped, and there’s probably dead leaves stuck to your back and hair.

But that doesn’t matter now. Now you need to make sure you don’t get captured and hopefully, find a way to get Soldat out.

_ _ _ _

You don’t know how long you’ve been running for, if it even could be called running. There was a lot of limping, shuffling from tree to tree, and a lot of pain. You probably have something sprained or at least very badly bruised from the fall, but at least your wounds don’t seem to be bleeding anymore. You’re not really sure, all you know is that everything aches, you’re hungry and cold and the adrenaline is slowly leaving your body. It’s a miracle you can still keep yourself upward, but it’s getting more and more difficult with ever step.

It’s starting to get light on the horizon, dawn is approaching fast. You find yourself by a lake and you think you might cry at how gorgeous it is, how good it is to see something that’s not a damp cold wall. You stumble your way to the edge of the water and look at yourself in its reflection. You really do look like something straight from a horror movie, just like you suspected and it makes you laugh. A dog’s bark comes from somewhere in the distance and you freeze, instantly seeking for a place to hide.

You want to run, but your body feels too heavy, you mind too hazy with exhaustion and blood loss. You try to stand up but trip over your own feet and fall back just as the dog runs to you. You barely register that it’s not the usual massive black dog Hydra guards had, but a smaller fluffier kind. You still instinctively raise your hands to protect your face and curl your legs up to your chest to protect your stomach. You hear a voice, a man, talking to you, but you don’t know what he’s saying, you’re too far gone.

“Oh dear!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

_ _ _ _

The feeling of warmth wakes you up, so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. You can feel it on your face and on your chest and thighs and even on your palms. You open your eyes and immediately close them again, everything around you is way too bright.

Your memory is a bit foggy, the last thing you remember was a lake and then darkness. But you’re not there anymore, you’re somewhere inside, inside a room and on a soft bed, a soft blanket draped over your body.

A weird sound startles you and you open your eyes again, looking for its source. The room is quiet for a moment and you wonder if you have only imagined it, when you hear it again. It sounded like…a _snore_?

You try to move, but notice there’s something heavy between your legs. You’re scared to look, not sure if you even want to know what it is, and then almost scream when you realise it’s a dog - the same one you remember running towards you by the lake.

It looks more like a plush toy, than a living creature, its fur a mess of warm brown curls.

The dog snores again and you think it might not be one of those vicious guard dogs you’ve come to know. You tug at the blanket and slowly maneuver your legs around the sleeping pup and slide off the bed.

The room around you looks like something straight from a fairytale and you’re sure that not only were you caught but Hydra’s scientists must have used some heavy drugs on you, because what you are seeing seems unreal. Antique looking white furniture is covered in little trinkets, there are a few small vases with fresh flowers in them, the walls are a soft yellow colour. It all looks really cute with the fluffy dog spread out in the middle of the pink blanket.

There’s a full length mirror by the door in which you inspect your appearance. Someone has definitely washed you and dressed you in an old-fashioned sleeping gown that reached past your knees. In panic, you reach for your neck, finding Soldat’s dog tags are still there and exhale in relief. Whoever looked after you had also taken care of your wounds as most of your body was covered in bandages.

You check the door, expecting it to be locked, like they always were. But it’s not and it opens with a soft creak, revealing a hallway and a staircase at the end of it. You follow the sound of music coming from somewhere downstairs. The walls are covered in artwork, some beautiful landscape paintings, some children’s drawings in pastel frames, and lots and lots of pictures. Families, children, even a few pictures of the dog that cuddled up to you.

When you get downstairs, you hear a soft voice following the words of the song coming from the kitchen. An elderly woman stands with her back to you at the counter, humming to herself and fiddling with something you can’t see. She too looks like someone from a fairytale - white curly hair pinned on the top of her head, a dark blue dress reaching her knees and a yellow apron around her waist. Everything surrounding her is warm and in soft colours and you cannot recall the last time you have been in such peaceful surroundings.

Are you hallucinating? Your instincts are failing you and you don’t know how to react to all of this. On one hand, you think you should be running as fast as you can, but on the other hand - wherever you are, someone has cared for you and given you shelter. Your guardian angel must have finally found you after all these years.

“Hello?” You call out to her. She gasps and turns towards you and you can now see she was putting frosting on a cake.

“Oh! Good morning, sweetheart! How are you feeling?” Her smile is beautiful and looking at her face you imagine she must’ve been very popular when she was young, given that even in her old age she is stunning.

“I’m….. fine? Where am I?”

“Why, you are in a safe place, dear. My husband found you yesterday by the lake, while walking our Waffle. You looked quite rough.”

“Waffle?”

“Our poodle! I believe he was keeping you company upstairs?” The woman moves to the kettle and takes out two mugs out of the cupboard. You hum to yourself, Waffle was a good name for the brown pup.

“Who are you?” You ask, as she drops a tea bad in each mug and adds a bit of honey. You really hope she’s not a secret Hydra agent and will drag you back to that hell again. Maybe it’s stupid of you to trust her, but she simply radiates good.

“Ah! Where are my manners? I’m Ruth. My husband, Gerald, should be back soon. He went to town to get the paper and some bread.” She explains and motions for you to sit down at the dining table.

You notice she has the television on, but the sound is muted. It looks like some sci-fi movie, people in weird costumes are fighting some sort of alien creatures, and you find it strange for such an adorable woman to be watching something so violent. Only when the a reporter appears on screen, you realise you’re actually looking at a news station.

“What year is it?” You ask when she sets a tray on the table with your teas and a piece of the cake she was decorating and sits opposite from you.

She looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “It’s 2014, sweetheart. Are you sure you’re alright?”

You are definitely not alright, you’re on the verge of a panic attack. 2014. You’ve been locked away for exactly 10 years. You have so many questions, but you know time is running.

She reaches for your hand over the table, and gently rubs the skin with her thumb, trying to comfort you. You point back to the screen. “What’s that?”

“The attack on New York, two years ago. Terrible stuff. Some aliens, I believe? Good thing Mr Stark and his friends stopped them! They would’ve eaten my poor Waffle alive if they got here!” She laughs. Obviously, she was coping way better than yourself.

“Sweetheart, forgive me for asking but what happened to you?” She lowers her voice, still gently touching your hand, not wanting to push you too much. “Did someone - ?” She didn’t finish her question, but you can imagine what she would ask given the state her husband found you in.

“I was kidnapped many years ago. Some bad people kept me but I escaped.” You decide not to tell her the whole truth. It feels like you already brought too much darkness into her lovely home. You hear her speaking but you don’t register her words, as an all too familiar blue, red and white suit appears on screen.

You’ve seen that man in so many old movies, pictures, comics and paintings, you would recognise him everywhere, but your brain was rejecting the idea that the legendary hero from the 40s was not only still alive but also kicking a lot of ass, apparently.

But then again, you had spent ten years fixing his best friend’s metal arm.

You point at the screen but turn your face towards Ruth. “I need to find that man.”

“Who? Captain America?”

“Yes. He can help me. I need to find him.” You repeat, your pleading eyes softening something in her expression.

“I’m not sure that’s possible, dear. The Avengers live all the way in New York. That’s hours away. Plus, I don’t think you can just stroll into the Avengers Tower and demand a hearing.” She shakes her head.

“Please. I need to try. I managed to escape but my friend couldn’t. The Captain is the only one who can help me.”

She looks at you in doubt and you are sure she thinks you have completely lost your mind, but is too polite to comment on it.

“Please, Ruth. _Please_.” After another moment of thought, she sighs heavily. “Let’s get you dressed and wait for Gerald to come back with the car.”

_ _ _ _

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, but I cannot let you go inside. It’s against protocol.” One of the receptionists at the Avengers Tower explains to you. You’ve been trying to talk your way inside for the past 20 minutes but nothing you said helped your situation.

“Please, miss, I’m begging you. I just need two minutes with Captain Rogers. That’s all I’m asking for. Please!” You beg her again. You understood she was only doing her job, but hoped there was something that would allow you to meet the Captain.

“I’m truly sorry. Due to safety measures, I cannot allow you inside. I can book you in for a appointment with one of our employees and maybe if you speak to them, they will be able to help you reach Mr Rogers.” You really appreciated her efforts, but that sort of crap would take too long. And you didn’t have time to waste. For all you know, Soldat could already be dead because of you.

With a pained groan, you hide your face in your hands. You didn’t imagine seeking the help of the Avengers would be so difficult. You can feel Ruth’s warm palm rubbing your shoulder comfortingly.

“What’s going on here?” A man calls out behind you, his voice full of authority, but not the scary kind you are used to. You spin around and almost collapse on the marble floor when you spot the tall blond you are after right in front of you - Steve Rogers himself.

Without so much as a thought, you run towards him, barely registering the receptionist yelling behind you. You pull James’s dog tags off your neck, and push them in the Captain’s palm when you reach him. He stares at the metal plates, his eyes widening as he reads what’s on them.

“I know where Barnes is. I know how to get him out. Please, you need to help him.” You tell him quickly, getting straight to the point. He looks down at you, then back at the dog tags and with a determined expression he immediately pulls you by your elbow towards an elevator.

_ _ _ _

“So what you’re saying is, Hydra kept you locked up so you could fix the Winter Soldier’s arm and you escaped two days ago?” The tall man, who was introduced to you as Sam, was full of doubts and hostility. His arms were crossed on his chest, his face was pulled in a frown and every few minutes he would let out a frustrated sigh.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” You turned to Captain Rogers, as he was the one person you needed to believe you. No one else mattered at the moment. “Please, I can give you all the information that I have. Ruth showed me a map and I roughly know where that facility is. You need to save him.”

The Captain doesn’t answer. He’s rubbing his chin, deep in thought, and he stares at a spot on the table between the two of you.

“That guy doesn’t seem like the type you save. More like the type you stop.” Sam speaks again and stare daggers at him.

“Why did you escape alone? Why didn’t he come with you?” The Captain speaks finally.

“They’ve put him in cryo a few days ago. I didn’t want to leave him behind, but I couldn’t waste the only chance for escape I’ve gotten in years.”

“Why did you come here?” Asks the redhead woman, who was sat next to the Captain. Natasha, he called her.

“Where else would I go?” You scoff at her. “I learned about the Captain in school. Who else could I _possibly_ trust to ask for help?”

There’s a few moments of silence between the four of you. You know they don’t trust you, you understand why they wouldn’t. But sitting around, waiting for them to make a decision stressed you out even more.

“Captain.” You call his attention to yourself and he looks at you with so much emotion in his blue eyes, you are taken aback for a second. You clear your throat and continue. “They know I’ve ran and they are probably looking for me right now. I’m lucky they didn’t get me before I found you. If I go back on my own, they will kill me and they will hurt him. If you help me, there’s hope.”

He still seems unsure so you keep on going. “They’ve done terrible things to him, Captain. Horrible, unimaginable things.” You feel your eyes tearing up at the memories of what you’ve read and witnessed yourself. The files, all the times he’s been hit in front of you, all the times you’ve heard him scream in anguish.

“Please, he’s my _friend_.” You choke out, your voice breaking, but you’re willing yourself not to cry in front of these people.

The Captain turns to Natasha and gives her a nod. She lets out an irritated sigh and stands up, leaning her palms on the table and staring you down menacingly.

“Just so we’re clear, kid. If this turns out to be a trap, I will kill you myself.” She threatens, trying to scare you into revealing yourself as a traitor.

“No offense, miss, but I spent the last ten years with a gun against my head almost every day. It takes a bit more than a threat to scare me.” You say without a thought.

She looks at you with so much anger, you start to regret your words, but the Captain conceals his laughter with a very fake cough and you think you might have just found a new ally.

_ _ _ _

Steve, as he’s asked you to call him, formed a plan with his friends. They were going to let you lead them to the Hydra facility, sneak in and get Barnes out. They were hoping for as little spilled blood as possible, but you knew your luck would run out any moment now.

“So why did you decide to escape now? Why not earlier?” Sam asks, a lot less hostile now. The four of you are in a car, Sam’s driving, Natasha is reading the map you had brought from Ruth’s house and comparing it to some stuff on a computer-looking thing. Steve is sat next to you in the backseat, looking out the window.

“I always wanted to escape. It’s kinda difficult to do when you are just a malnourished techie with no knowledge of your surroundings. The storm and everything afterwards was just pure luck.” You simply shrug.

Before the conversation can go any further, a loud thud resounds inside the car, accompanied by a dent in the roof. Panic fills the air, your ears are ringing.

Natasha and Sam are yelling at each other, she’s cocking a gun. The Captain grabs his shield and is about to lean out the window, but a hand you recognise all too well shoots through the windshield right in front of Sam, grabs the steering wheel and rips it out of the car. Sam stops screaming, not knowing how to react. Natasha yells at him to push the brakes and she pulls on the hand brake. The car swerves but makes a sudden stop and you see the dark figure fly off in front of it, slowing his impact against the concrete with his metal arm.

Soldat.

You can see it in his emotionless eyes. He’s been wiped and he’s out to kill.

With a bark of “Stay in the car” Steve, Natasha and Sam jump out and immediately go into battle with Soldat. They’re strong, you realise, they can hold their own against him. But because there’s hesitation in the Captain’s movements, they’re not strong enough to stop him. With a few swift punches, Natasha and Sam are down and there’s only the two super soldiers fighting now. You can’t watch anymore. You’ve taken so many chances already, you are prepared to take another one.

You climb out of the car, passing the two unconscious Avengers. You hesitate when you spot the weapons on their belts. You think you should take one but you can’t bring yourself to even imagine trying to go against Soldat. You knew he was too strong for you and that you had no clue about fighting anyway. No weapon could change that, so you walk over to him bare handed.

He’s got Steve pinned to the ground, his flesh arm holding the man in place, and he’s punching him mercilessly with his metal arm. Steve’s face is covered in blood but he’s not fighting back anymore. You imagine it’s for the same reason as everything you have done in the past week.

“James.” You call out to him, but he doesn’t react. “_Soldat_!” You try again, your desperation seeping into your voice.

He pauses. Still holding Steve in place, he looks up at you.

“Maleńka*?” He mumbles, recognition lighting up his eyes.

A sob escapes you and you run to him, grabbing his wrists. He looks at you bewildered, as if he didn’t realise he was punching a man to death only seconds earlier. His hands are covered in Steve’s blood.

“Please, _stop_, Soldat, don’t hurt him!” You plead, pulling his now limp hands away from Steve, who coughs violently. You reach out and gently angle his face to the side so he can spit out the blood that’s pooling in his mouth.

You turn back to Soldat who looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“They ordered me to kill you.” He whispers. His voice trembles and his eyes are starting to brim with tears.

“Will you do it?”

He looks you straight in the eyes for a few seconds, as if the answer is somewhere in there. “Never.” He stands up, taking his weight off Steve and pulls his wrists out of your hold. He takes a step back, watching you help Steve on his side. The Captain is breathing hard and clutching his ribs.

“Are you gonna be okay, Steve?” You whisper to him, gently wiping the blood off his cheeks with your fingers.

“Yeah.” He croaks out. “Talk to him. He listens to you.” He can’t see but you nod at him.

You stand up and step closer to Soldat. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Natasha and Sam slowly lifting themselves off the hard concrete, guns at the ready.

Soldat is frozen in place, his sad eyes fixed on the man on the ground in front of him. With slow, gentle movements, you wrap your arms around his waist and press your forehead to his chest. He breathes in slowly, his body hard a stiff as a rock. You rub your palm up and down his back and look up at him, give him a comforting smile.

“You’re gonna be okay, James. I’ve got you.”

He looks at you finally and a single tear escapes his eye. You reach up, gently wipe it off and he leans his face into your palm.

“It’s gonna be okay now.” You tell him again.

He wraps his arms around you and lowers his head to lean it on your shoulder. You move your hand from his cheek to the back of his neck and hold him to you, softly kissing his ear.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

_ _ _ _

“Is it done yet?” A low voice at your ear startles you out of you concentration over your current project.

“_James_!” You swat at him as he takes a sit on the spare stool next to you with a smirk on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I told you not to sneak up on me when I’m working!” You huff and turn back to your work.

“Sorry, doll. Old habits die hard.”

You put down your tools and look at him. He’s wearing a black sweater and dark jeans, his hair is pulled in a loose bun and he looks delicious. How dare he come to your lab looking like this?

“How was your day?” You give him a smile, now that your heart isn’t about to crash through your ribcage and ignore the fact that now it’s beating fast for a completely different reason.

“Good. Helped Steve out with some reports and stuff. Nothing exciting.” He shrugs and looks down on the table in front of you, where his new vibranium arm is laying, the plates moved aside to reveal the wiring and mechanisms inside. “How’s that going?”

“Almost done. Will you be okay for a couple more days? I’m waiting for a few parts Princess Shuri has sent over.”

“Sure. At least Sam’s pride will recover while I’m at a disadvantage during training.” He laughs and you join him. His friendship with Sam was your favourite source of entertainment.

You pull your chair closer to him and place your hands on his shoulders, gently massaging his collarbones with your thumbs.

“How about I finish up and we watch a movie?”

“Takeout or popcorn?” He murmurs, leaning closer and you think that simple question should not sound as seductive as it does.

You nuzzle your nose against his and you speak.“I’m hungry. Order some chinese?”

He kisses you softly, humming at the feeling of your warm lips and you smile into the kiss. Not breaking apart, you trail your fingers from his shoulders up his neck and place your palms on his cheeks, gently scratching at the stubble now covering them. He sighs at the gesture and you feel his right arm wrap around your waist and pull you closer, so your chair is between his legs. He goes to deepen the kiss, but you pull away with a giggle. He whines at the loss and chases your lips.

“Big Brother is watching, Buck.” You point at the camera under the ceiling. Tony has given you multiple lectures about the, in his words, unprofessional behaviour the two of you would display.

“We’re not doing anything bad!” He complains and pulls you a bit closer, so you’re now basically sat in his lap.

“Bucky, if Tony bans me from the labs again, you’re not getting your arm for weeks.” You grumble and playfully nip at his jaw.

“Don’t care.”

“You might not care, but I’m kinda tired of riding you all the time and doing all the work, so how about I get this arm done so we can finally have some fun, hm?” Now that gets his attention.

He clears his throat and straightens his back. “Fine.” He lets you move your chair back and stands up. “But if you’re not upstairs in half an hour, I’m dragging you up there.” He threatens half-heartedly.

“Okay!” You laugh, but you know he will not hesitate to throw you over his shoulder and bring you all the way to your shared apartment a few floors up.

He gives you one more peck on the lips and strolls back to the elevators, giving you an excellent view of his ass.

It’s been five years since that fateful week, when you escaped Hydra’s clutches and then managed to pull Bucky out as well. Since then, he’s become a whole new person.

With the generous help of the Wakandan royal family, years of therapy and the support and love of his new-found family, he’s become a warm and sweet man. You wouldn’t say he was fully recovered, because does one ever really recover from such traumatic events? There were still bad days, and nightmares, and anxiety, but he was better. He was himself and he was free. Even if the scars would probably be there forever, the wounds were starting to heal.

Steve and Tony have offered him a place amongst the Avengers, but Bucky refused to touch another weapon again. Instead, with Sam’s recommendation and guidance, he lead meetings with war veterans and victims of abuse.

And you, despite never thinking you’d be able to, fulfilled your dream of building prosthetics for anyone who needed them. Tony had offered you education and a place in one of his labs and you were an employee of Stark Prosthetics - a new wing of his company which was created three years ago.

Oh yeah, and James Barnes is your boyfriend. That’s pretty cool.

**Author's Note:**

> YES HELLO I guess I'm back on AO3 now??
> 
> I took a break from writing because I was into kpop for a while, but I've fallen in the Marvel pit again, and I've been writing fics like crazy so I decided to put them on here as well for everyone to enjoy!
> 
> I will be slowly reposting all of my fics from tumblr, but if you want to read them before I manage to get them on here, feel free to check out my blog buckysknifecollection.tumblr.com for my full masterlist, shitposting and me crying about Bucky a lot ;)


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